The King's Spy (The Augur's Eye Book 2)

by Guy Antibes

  “You said the saints left us a long time ago,” Argien said. “From what I could tell, ancient accounts said most people were happier then.”

  The woman tilted her head back and laughed. “Everyone thinks the past was better. True, the saints used magic none of us have today. All the folk have legends to that effect, so I believe it was true. They helped their worshippers, but then times changed, and the folk sought other ways to gain enlightenment. I prefer to pray to a pixie woman, even though I’m sure she no longer listens.”

  Argien thanked her. They examined the architecture in the inside, which was every bit as creative as the outside, before leaving the building.

  “Gives me the creeps,” Zarl said. “Our ancient places of worship are plainer, and bigger,” he said crouching down to make it through the door.

  “Is there any saint worship?”

  Zarl shook his head. “None. Even the oldest chapels are dedicated to the Great All.”

  The walk made them hungry, and they returned to the travelers’ inn, with more normal-sized rooms and doorways. At dinner, Zarl entertained everyone with a detailed account of their encounter with the num in the church.

  “Will we be traveling to Delica?” Zarl asked Whit. Deechie moved in his seat at the table to overhear the reply.

  “There are artifacts in Delica. We get to travel from the northern tip of the continent to the southern tip,” Whit said.

  “But not the Faretheewell Islands to the south of here?”

  “Maybe. The records get a little vague about that,” Whit said. They didn’t, but Deechie kept probing and the islands weren’t on the expedition’s itinerary. Deechie was smart enough to figure out that he couldn’t trust the plan they had submitted along with their application since it was abandoned in less than a day of travel.

  “We should concentrate on Perisia,” Gambol said. “Without focus, we won’t achieve our goals.”

  “We shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves,” Deechie said.

  Whit wondered if the human was thinking about the competing expedition, undoubtedly making its way south to Perisia.

  ~

  Zarl ate a bit too much of the pixish cuisine and wasn’t ready to leave Saintsong early in the morning. They decided to give Zarl a few hours to recuperate, still giving them enough time to arrive in Garri before dark.

  Whit took Yetti and Pin aside, sitting on a long bench in front of the inn. Whit took out his list of contacts while Yetti asked Pin, “Have you ever heard of Ritta Misennia? Whit and I have been asked to meet her in Perisia.”

  “Anyone who would ask you to meet her in Perisia would probably assume she lives in Garri,” Pin said. “Why don’t we talk about this when we arrive in the capital. I have a loose network of friends and contacts. Between us all, we might locate the woman. Do you have a description?”

  Yetti shook her head. “The requestor is in the Ayce government. We have no message to give her, just find out how others can contact her.”

  Whit didn’t have anything to add. He didn’t expect Pin to know her, but his contacts were far superior to anyone Yetti and Whit could establish while looking for the Eye components.

  Zarl stepped out onto the porch looking a bit embarrassed. “I can leave now. My ailment cleared itself out.”

  Whit nodded. “In that case, let’s head for Garri.”

  Zarl rubbed his hands. “I’ll be glad to be making real progress.”

  Whit would be, too, but he wasn’t so sure how much progress they had made as he finished up loading his traveling bags into one of the carriages and climbing into the driver’s seat for the last leg to Garri.

  The dirt highway suddenly became brick paved about halfway to Garri. They passed more villages and a few towns as they approached the capital. The architecture and organization of the habitations didn’t change until they were on the city’s outskirts. Where Whit had expected more of the pixie style, Garri looked like any walled city that Whit had seen or read about.

  The walls were stone or brick, and the roofs that they saw once they entered through a guarded gate were stone or tile. When they pulled into another merchant’s inn, with taller main doors, Pin walked up to Whit.

  “Notice the difference? The capital has been built to keep fires at a minimum. The old capital was destroyed by fire during a revolution a few centuries ago. The king built a new capital with an eye toward less destruction. Pixie fire can’t burn the buildings this time,” Pin said.

  “So that is why there is an old capital,” Whit said. “I thought it might have been a change in dynasties.”

  Pin laughed. “That would have been the reason if the rebels had been successful. As it was, whatever could be salvaged from the old capital was used to build the new one. Even the paving bricks were used.”

  “So you said. I wondered why.”

  “Now you know the reason behind the start of ripping up much of Perisia’s roadways,” Pin said.

  As he had warned, Pin elected to stay elsewhere.

  “I’ll join you for breakfast tomorrow morning,” Pin said. “I’m going to renew some of my acquaintances, in the flesh this time.” He grinned. “I’ll ask about Ritta Misennia too.”

  Whit and Gambol opened their documents in Gambol’s room and began to go over the information they had regarding the Eye artifacts in Garri.

  “There is a library close to the old temple, it says. The artifacts are rumored to have been hidden there inside a stone wall.” Gambol said.

  Whit looked through the eight enchanted documents. He noticed an entry that looked interesting. “The fourth object is called the inner orb,” Whit said, “It was taken by religious pixies hidden in a safe place, but it doesn’t say which saint or where.”

  “I remember that. We’d be looking for an abbey, monastery or temple,” Gambol said. He shuffled to the drawing Whit reproduced of the Augur’s Eye. “There are two eyes or orbs, I guess. A top one and then there is a chamber that leads to the one in the center, the inner orb.” He laid the schematic on the table between them. “It is probably referring to that.”

  Almost in the center of the square contraption sat a ball, filled in, so Whit thought it would be black. “That is the second vital part of the Eye that I had in mind when I suggested we start at Perisia.” Whit shook his head. “I still don’t know anything else. I suppose we can count up how many saints there are to see what the chances are of the orb being in Garri.”

  “Oh. I know my saints and saintesses by heart,” Gambol said. “They interested me when I was younger than you. Not in a religious sense, but I liked the stories around them. There are three saintesses. Varetta of the pixies, Hessia of the gnomes—of course I liked her the best—and Orlei of the angels. Argien might know more about her.”

  “How many male saints?” Whit asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “Five. A human, another angel—making it a brother and sister—and an elven saint. There is only one between sky elves and wood elves—imagine sharing a saint! — an ogre, and the last one’s race is lost to the ages. Sometimes that saint is assumed to be the Great All,” Gambol said.

  “I would have thought either the wood elves or the sky elves would have claimed that one,” Whit said, joking.

  “No. Ancient history is very consistent with only one saint between both races of elves,” Gambol said.

  “I suppose we can ask Pin if he has any suggestions if we assume that Varetta is the one,” Whit said, taking the papers and slipping them in his portfolio.

  “Our attention is best focused on the trio of parts. The critical piece we need to get is the bottom of the cradle holding the inner orb.”

  There wasn’t much else to do now that they had read the location information. Gambol made sure that Deechie wasn’t around when Whit replaced the portfolio in the carriage. He decided to walk out of the stable yard and head down to the main square to see if he could spot Garri’s temple.

  The only buildings with spires of any kind were the palace complex,
and they had to be too new. Whit stopped a female constable.

  “Is there a temple to Saint Varetta in Garri?”

  The woman laughed. “Not in Garri. When they built the city no one cared about the saints anymore. You’ll have to go to Saintsong to see a church, but there are church and temple ruins scattered around Perisia.”

  Whit nodded and continued his walk. Other than the city built for smaller folk, Garri didn’t look that much different from Herringbone, other than not having any of Herringbone’s hills. He returned to the inn and found Gambol in the stable yard working out with Fistian and Razz. Whit joined in and worked his exercising, so Gambol and Whit were sparring each other.

  “No temple in Garri,” Whit said as they fought. “There are some ruins in the countryside.”

  “We will have to take a field trip, then,” Gambol said. “You might verify that with Pin.”

  Whit blocked a speedy punch. “Oh, I’ll definitely do that.”

  Chapter Eight

  ~

  T ime slowed for Whit until breakfast was served in the dining room. Pin walked in wearing fancy clothes.

  “I’m seeing King Quiller in an hour,” the pixie said. “Other than permission to look, is there anything else you want me to ask?”

  “Where are the parts?” Zarl said.

  Pin smiled. “That is already on my list.”

  The pixie sat down next to Yetti. Whit noticed he passed a note to her, but Pin was in the mood to talk, so Whit let him talk for most of breakfast, talking about the king’s uncle, the king that Pin had served.

  The meal ended, and Whit walked Pin out of the inn. “Are you in any peril? Are we in any peril?” he asked the pixie.

  “Yes, to both,” Pin grimaced, and said quietly so only Whit could hear. “Perisia isn’t particularly stable right now. The king isn’t the most astute politician, and the factions are having their way with him. We can talk about it later. I think it wise to talk to the two main factions, the prime minister’s allies and someone in the Ministry of the Interior, before you talk to the king. The pixie Magician’s Circle is aligned with the Interior. If you don’t, there is a good chance they will undercut your position.”

  “Won’t they do that anyway?”

  Pin nodded. “But it’s better to get the objections out in the open so you can satisfy the king that you are who you say you are.”

  “And who are we?”

  “A Herringbone expedition looking for artifacts. You don’t have any political agenda.”

  Whit nodded. “I don’t have one that I know of.”

  “See if you can keep it that way,” Pin said. “I did find something that might stir things up a bit. I made a few inquiries and found out that your Miss Ritta is a rebel. If you are to make contact with her, please do it after you have met with the king and gotten your permissions.”

  “Is she part of the prime minister’s faction or aligned with the Interior Ministry?”

  “Neither. She is out to take down the king for the people. She’s impatient for reform while she perceives King Quiller doing nothing. I didn’t get much on the lady, but meeting her is something you want to do when you are leaving Perisia, not when you have just arrived.” Pin slapped Whit’s upper arm. “I must go. I will be back this afternoon, if the king hasn’t taken my head.”

  Whit watched Pin walk toward the main square and the palace on the other side of it. He walked back into the inn. Deechie walked up.

  “What did he tell you?”

  “Politics can be a killer in Perisia. Have you ever heard of the Perisian Magician’s Circle?”

  Deechie blushed. The man shook his head, but his expression said otherwise.

  “The prime minister has her allies, and the Interior Ministry has joined with the local Magician’s Circle. There might be other factions,” Whit said. “He said we should talk to the ministers before we venture an audience with King Quiller.”

  “We just don’t want him to be King Quiller, the killer,” Argien said walking up to them. “I think Pin’s advice is sound, but what will we do if we can’t get quick meetings?”

  “Then we wait.” Gambol joined them. The gnome clapped Deechie on his shoulder, making the human flinch. “Why don’t you join our little group learning gnomish fighting. I’ll not ask again, you know.”

  “Good. Asking me is a waste of your breath.” Deechie looked at them all before he left.

  The three of them watched Deechie leave the inn.

  “Where do you suppose he is going?” Argien said.

  “To embrace his brothers in the Perisian Magician’s Circle,” Whit said. “I’m sure he’s been told he has friends there.”

  “Didn’t I hear him deny he’d heard of them?” Argien asked.

  “You didn’t see his face turn red when I asked. He knows them, all right, and that won’t help us if we have to meet with them,” Whit said.

  “If we get the chance,” Gambol said. “I’m getting into some practice clothes.”

  A few minutes later, five of the group assembled in the stable yard.

  “We will clean the yard up first,” Gambol said. “No sense sliding in stuff we don’t want to slide in.”

  Everyone laughed, and in a few minutes more, everyone was practicing. Midway through the practice, Deechie walked into the yard and stopped.

  “More of this claptrap?” the human said.

  “Claptrap? Is your memory so short? There are devices that can rob you of your magic. What will you do if that happens?” Argien said.

  Deechie made a disagreeable face and continued on into the inn.

  “The Perisian Magician’s Circle knows all about us, by now,” Whit said.

  “They would have sooner or later.” Gambol took the opportunity to attack Whit, and the two had an impromptu sparring match.

  Whit wondered if the gnomish inner power was immune to the wand hiding with the Augur’s Eye papers in the coach. He hoped it was. They hadn’t really started their expedition, and it was already more complicated than Whit had imagined. He felt a punch to his chest and wiped all extraneous thoughts from his mind as he turned back to Gambol.

  When they had finished their match, Whit glanced at Razz working with Argien. Argien had an angel version of inner power going. It wasn’t as powerful as what the gnomes could produce, but his moves were enhanced. Razz, even with nothing but his strength, gave Argien a good match, but the angel always won in their practice bouts along the way.

  “Time to work on your inner power,” Gambol said. “Listen to Whit.”

  Razz put his hands down. “I’ve heard it all before,” he said. “It doesn’t work for me.” He pressed his palm to his breastbone. “There is nothing there.”

  Whit suddenly thought of flying, using the angel visualization and wondered if it was as simple as finding the right power spot for Razz. “Try other areas,” Whit said. “Visualize your heart, your stomach, below your rib cage. There must be some power source for you to tap into. Remember, you aren’t collecting power to project outside, but to channel inside.”

  Razz sighed. “I’ll go up to my room and clean up. After I do, I’ll work on finding my strength spot.”

  “I like that,” Gambol said. “A strength spot. I think we’ve done enough for today, but we will meet every day until we get an audience with the king.”

  Whit was fine with that. He went to his room to wash up and went down to the common room for some refreshment since it was too early for lunch. Yetti sat down at his table.

  “What are we going to do about Ritta Misennia? Already I don’t like her.”

  “Why not?” Whit asked.

  “She is a rebel and that means she is most likely unpredictable, headstrong, and irrational,” Yetti said. “I won’t be able to trust her.”

  Whit was surprised that an unpredictable, headstrong pixie woman would speak irrationally about Ritta Misennia. Did Yetti know she was describing herself? “We only have to meet her and make a connection for Canis,”
Whit said. “She isn’t going to join our group or anything.”

  “She better not.” Yetti shook her finger at Whit. “And don’t you invite her!” She rose and walked out of the common room.

  Whit wondered what prompted Yetti’s outburst. Pin walked into the room. He didn’t look particularly happy, but when Whit asked him a question, the pixie raised his hand and shook his head, saying nothing, and looked, unfocused, across the room.

  “Can I ask you about something unrelated to your meeting this morning?”

  Pin nodded and turned to Whit who related his short conversation with Yetti.

  The pixie brightened a bit. “Not unpredictable,” Pin said. “She has decided that if you incorporate Ritta into our little group, that she will lose her place as the prime pixie.”

  “What is a prime pixie?” Whit asked.

  “It is a cultural thing. The prime pixie is like the matriarch in a family. It is a female that is revered for her position, and everyone listens to her.”

  “But she’s never asserted that kind of thing on our trip, so far.”

  Pin nodded and sighed. “She wasn’t in a pixie land before. Yetti’s been stewing about it, thinking the worse.” Pin looked at his hands and then back up at Whit. “I suppose you are wondering why I am as miffed as I am?”

  “The question was in the back of my mind,” Whit said.

  “I was rebuffed by the king. I thought my relationship with his uncle would be worth something, but…” Pin shook his head. “He doesn’t need me to advise him on anything. What a fool!”

  “The king or you?” Whit asked.

  Pin laughed. “I got ahead of myself, didn’t I? Me, if you must know. Even older people can be touched with a bit of hubris. The only consolation is that I didn’t burn a bridge. The king was very clear that he has enough advisors at present. I wasn’t with him long enough to work an opening suitable to bring your situation up.”

  “Are we out of luck?”

  Pin shook his head. “Not at all. It will take time, but I think I prepared you for that. I had hoped you could get an audience sooner.”